


Goodbye, Space Cadet

by Writing_Like_Ill_Die



Series: Tea Roses [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Canon Compliant, Canon deaths, Dissociation, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Pre-Game Harukawa Maki, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Pre-Game Tojo Kirumi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 04:03:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17542316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_Like_Ill_Die/pseuds/Writing_Like_Ill_Die
Summary: Even after they’ve become themselves again, it’s hard to let go of what they’ve lost. Especially when an assassin becomes sympathetic again.(Maki finally learns how to let go, without the help of brainwashing.)





	Goodbye, Space Cadet

Sometimes, Tojo stopped what she was doing, and stood there. It was okay. Maki knew she didn’t mean it. The shy brunette could easily get her out of the way, sit her down, wait for her to come back. It only lasted half an hour, usually.

It was better when only her face stopped. Then, at least, Maki wouldn’t be down a pair of hands. Maki could keep an eye on her until she was done with her task, and lead her to the next one. It was efficient, the boss said, when Tojo did that. Maki didn’t know anything about money or jobs or efficiency, but she preferred a lucid Kirumi to a dead-eyed machine, or worse, a completely still statue of her.

Maki used to watch her as she robotically filled bottles. Yes, she preferred Kirumi talking to her silent, thank you. 

It wasn’t her fault, of course. Maki wasn’t stupid enough to blame her. Not that she could blame anyone with breaking into panic. Hell, she stopped working sometimes too, turned into a space cadet just like Kirumi. It was just never as extreme.

Sometimes she wondered if you could space out in heaven, just like Tojo used to, all the time. All the time, before Tojo, Maki’s best friend, the one she trusted, was brainwashed into a servant and forced into a murder. 

What were either of them thinking? She knows the answers, but she doesn’t want to let herself process them. Doesn’t want to think about it. She was never good at letting go. Maybe she never will be. But could anyone let go of this?

They shouldn’t still be grieving. She shouldn’t be at a dead woman’s grave, where her body, killed while in a virtual reality, lies. They were themselves again. They were normal again. But they had lost the people they cared about, both the fantasy characters they played, and their true selves. 

The Ultimate Assassin lost the Astronaut, but Maki lost Kirumi. Worst of all, she lost a Kirumi who didn’t even remember her. The Ultimate Maid doesn’t remember being hard at work with her, reading with her, living a quiet life and trying to survive despite their heads being messed up. She doesn’t remember the chocolate puddings, or the breadfruit, or the laughs they shared, whenever she was lucid. She doesn’t remember. She didn’t remember. She’ll never remember.

Maki sits to the side of the grave. It was okay to sit in Kirumi’s lap when she was alive, but now seems disrespectful. Her space cadet is gone. 

And Maki knows why. She knows why Tojo is dead. She knows why she entered Dangan Ronpa. But she feels fragile, feels transparent like glass. She feels as if she pulls out the bullet of grief that has settled in her heart, that she’ll shatter into a million pieces and be blown away on the wind.

Himiko walks past her. She’s had her visit. Her hair is starting to get long, her roots dark and black. Shuichi asked why, once. The girl glanced away, and Maki was reminded of a shy, masked boy who was brainwashed into a monster. She reminded Shuichi later, after Himiko retreated to her room.

Himiko looks at her now. Her eyes are cold, but comforting. She’s brought back to before the game, to Himiko grinning at her and teasing her, making her blush. To Himiko clinging to Korekiyo and only having to look him in the eyes to talk to him. 

Korekiyo must have passed on that ability to Maki. Because she knows what Himiko is saying, as she stands a distance from her space cadet’s grave.

’Let go. If you break, I’ll pick up the pieces.’

Maki remembers.

’I hate being like this.’ ‘I wish I could get some help.’ ‘I wish I could forget.’ 

Kirumi’s words tear through her mind, bitter and tired. 

‘I wish I was more confident...’ ‘I wish I didn’t see my childhood every time I went to sleep...’ ‘I wish we could both stop hurting.’

Maki’s own words, shy and exhausted, shred her thoughts. The words are to each other, whispered confessions in the dark.

A flyer in her memories. A risk, no, an opportunity.

’We’ll both live. And we won’t even have to kill anyone.’ Tojo whispers in her ear, soothing and tempting. ‘We’ll have the money to get help. We’ll have the money to live comfortably.’

Maki sobs, and she doesn’t bother to look pretty. She screams into the sky, and bashes her fists against the ground. She curses everything in a language only she can understand, her and maybe Kirumi.

And finally, she gets up. She looks at Tojo Kirumi’s grave.

“I’ll see you later, space cadet.” She whispers.

 

Finally, Harukawa Maki lets go.


End file.
